Shadows of Doubt
by Kidagarush
Summary: Helplessness. The unfamiliar sensation crept like the subtle chill of an autumn day over his skin, as he found himself tumbling backward. He scrambled away as Sebastian advanced, a coy smile playing around his soft lips. "Come now, young lord; I thought you were one to face your fears, not run from them," Sebastian crooned, looking rather disappointed. Will be Ciel/Sebastian.
It had been another long day, packed full from dawn until dusk with meetings and ledgers and agendas that needed attending and reviewing, and the young Earl of Phantomhive was rather spent. He had just finished his bath, and his trusted servant, Sebastian, was preparing him for bed.

Looking back on it now, their relationship had become far less platonic than he had allowed himself to believe. They had grown closer, perhaps, despite the boy's dark fate looming over them both, and he could not bring himself to say that it was for the worse.

"You don't suppose we should tell them?" Ciel said softly.

"I will follow through with whatever course of action you deem best, my lord. You know this," came the reply.

"I do know it," Ciel sighed, weary. "I only wonder if it might be something we can trust them with."

"I feel obligated to point something out," Sebastian began carefully, taking a few long strides toward his master, who sat perched on the edge of his four-poster bed.

"And what is that?" The young earl tilted his head back to look his butler in the eyes. They glistened mischievously.

"This would not be the first secret we have kept from them, young master," Sebastian breathed, his soft satin gloves drifting over his lord's hidden eye, brushing back strands of deep blue hair.

Ciel drew in a mildly startled breath. They hardly spoke of their contract anymore; in earnest, it seemed a trivial thing to him. He had known from the beginning that he wasn't long for this world.

He was not, however, going to lie down and let grief claim him. He would make something of himself first; something worthy of remembrance, if he could. More than that, though, he wanted revenge, pure and simple, and he was aware one didn't tend to live too long in the revenge business.

"My lord?" Sebastian's delicate voice brought Ciel out of his reverie.

"Yes?" The boy replied absently.

"Perhaps this is a matter for another day. Your mind is taxed, your body weary. Sleep will do you good, young lord." Sebastian let his hand fall and, not for the first time, Ciel felt a small seed of disappointment bloom inside his chest. "Come, lay your head down."

"I am well enough," Ciel replied, frowning as a yawn escaped his lips, betraying him.

Sebastian only smiled.

Sebastian only ever smiled.

"What are you thinking about?" Ciel asked, suddenly.

"Pardon me, my lord?" The butler leaned back, apparently confused.

"You wear many of the same expressions, whenever something should occur, because you are used to reacting to it. I know the looks. I spend more than half my time around aristocrats; I would know them in any case. They wear the faces they are trained to, leaving their minds free to think of something else," Ciel explained, a single brow furrowing over his good eye.

Sebastian remained silent, pondering. At length, he spoke.

"I often think of you in your high ranking position, with less years of experience than your competitors and associates. Your resolve in the face of adversity, you could say. And now, you require rest, my lord. You have another long day tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night, Sebastian." Ciel refrained from yawning once more as his butler closed the door, and his room fell into darkness.

He lay down, and adjusted the pillow beneath his head several times, but sleep would not come. Something in what Sebastian had said troubled him, but he could not put his finger on it. He had been lying there, in the dark, for perhaps an hour before it came to him.

Sebastian hadn't said what he thought of his position, only that he had thought of his position. Often.

Did his butler think him unfit for his post, or some such nonsense?

Shortly thereafter, exhaustion began to overtake Ciel and his troubled thoughts, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

In his dream, his manor house was perhaps three times its usual size. He wandered the halls, looking for anything he could find as leverage to reach his desk. He had a great deal of work to finish, but he could not hope to climb the chair, massive as it was.

His light steps echoed throughout the halls, and when he reached the foyer, Ciel felt himself no larger than an ant.

"Sebastian!" He called out, finally exhausted. There came no reply. He whirled around, expecting his butler to have materialized behind him in the eerie fashion that was his custom.

The hall remained empty, much to his disappointment.

"Sebastian!" He shouted again, his own shrill cry bouncing back off the gray marble staircases, mocking him in his helplessness.

Where was he?

"Come at once! Something's happened and I don't know-" Ciel stopped himself short. He didn't know what it was that he didn't know. In fact, he seemed to know less and less the more he thought about it. The solution must be to stop thinking. What was the alternative, then? Let Sebastian do all the thinking?

No. He could not reduce himself to relying solely on his servants; what kind of man would he be?

'No man at all,' a voice said. 'You are only a child, Ciel Phantomhive.'

"Who's there?" He demanded of the silence. He wasn't about to question how it was this disembodied voice could know his thoughts. The shadows closed in about the hall, hiding the farthest reaches of the room.

'Only a child,' it hissed, looming closer.

"Show yourself!" Ciel snapped, spinning around once again.

'What could he think of a child?'

"What? Who are you talking about?"

'Don't you know, Ciel? Don't you know? He couldn't think much of you, could he?'

"Enough of this! Who are you?" Ciel cried at the shadows, enraged. "You don't know Sebastian. You don't know anything!"

'My my, what a tantrum we're having.'

"Shut up!" He clenched his fists, his nails digging into the soft skin of his palms.

'It's unbecoming of you...' the voice leered, sultry, smooth, and getting closer still. '...my young lord.'

Ciel gasped, facing the right wing as his butler, tall and lean, materialized from within the darkness. "S- Sebastian? How- how dare you-" he began, faltering.

"How dare I? How dare you, child," the demon sneered, "think yourself worthy? How dare you call yourself my master." His eyes flashed a wicked red, his true nature peering through his human facade.

"Wha- I can't- why?" Ciel spluttered, completely at a loss for words. This couldn't be real. Sebastian was in no place to question him. This couldn't possibly be real.

"Hush, young lord. I think it's time we ended this silly little contract of ours," Sebastian said softly, leaning in.

Ciel tried to back away, but his laces were untied. He hadn't been able to tie them. He hadn't been able to do much of anything.

Helplessness.

The unfamiliar sensation crept like the subtle chill of an autumn day over his skin, as he found himself tumbling backward. He scrambled away as Sebastian advanced, a coy smile playing around his soft lips.

"Come now, young lord; I thought you were one to face your fears, not run from them," Sebastian crooned, looking rather disappointed.

"I'm not meant to be afraid of you! You are supposed to serve me, Sebastian! I order you to stop this foolishness, immediately." Ciel jutted out his chin, in a show of defiance, but he only looked more the part of a child, throwing a fit.

Sebastian merely cocked his head to the side, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Ciel knew that look.

Murder.

Simple, effortless, and ever-so-slightly enjoyable.

That was how Sebastian looked at those whom he killed, whether required to or not.

This was all too soon; too real. He had yet to taste his vengeance- Sebastian was coming for him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Ciel was powerless after all. He had hoped there might be something more than obligation behind Sebastian's actions; his wary glances, his careful ministrations whenever harm befell his master.

His master...

Ciel could do nothing but cower before the demon, horrified. He hadn't been this terrified since...

No. Nothing could rival the fear and the pain that had birthed the vengeful creature he'd become, because that had been real. Which means this must be-

Ciel woke with a start, bolting upright. His breath came in short, erratic gasps that only carried whispers of his voice as he tried to get himself under control. He'd upset the candelabra on his bedside table, and the clatter had not failed to summon his loyal servant, unfortunately.

Sebastian stepped into the room, quickly loosening the tension that had gripped him.

Ciel tried to speak, tried to say that he was well, that Sebastian's services were not required, but the words died somewhere in the pit of his stomach. It was still too raw, too close. He gripped the sheets as the blood rushed from his face, leaving his vision in blurs of shadow. There was a pinprick of light, a candle, perhaps, somewhere in the distance, then everything was swimming. Darkness began to creep in from the edges of his vision.

"Say it," a voice said. It was delicate, careful, and familiar. "It is all right, my lord; call my name. Remember you are the master of yourself."

"Wha- Wha- ha-" Ciel spluttered, trying to drag air into his lungs.

"It is all you need to say, my lord; start with my name. Speak one word at a time." Sebastian had reached him, and was running a soothing hand over his back.

"Se- Seb-a-a..." Ciel gasped, focusing. He closed his eyes. Focus on his word. One word at a time. "Seb-as-t-t-tian," he stammered, his knuckles whitening with effort.

"That's it, my lord," his butler said softly, encouraging him.

"Seba-stian," the boy said, brokenly, "Just a- just a- bad dream."

"I am sure, my lord, it was nothing. Would you care for a glass of water?"

"Y-yes." Ciel stared at his sheets, trying to remember how to unclench his fingers.

The darkness in his room was overwhelming, seeping in from every corner and crevice, crawling toward him from beneath the edges of his curtains, his heavy rugs, the wood paneling on his walls; it was all he could do not to ask for something foolish.

For something childish.

For Sebastian to hold him.

It was an arrogant assumption to make; just because he was, at present, sworn to protect the boy, it did not by any stretch of the imagination mean that Sebastian was not a monster. He relished in the grim tasks beset him, and was birthed in the bowels of Hell itself.

Then what did it say of the Lord of Phantomhive, that he should glean safety from such a thing's presence? That the earl should take comfort in his touch?

"Is there anything else that you require, master?" The butler intoned, setting the crystal glass down on the bedside table.

For a long, tense moment, Ciel couldn't bring himself to say 'no'.

"Nothing. Nothing further. Good night," he finally said, laying down without having a sip of his water.

The slender, shadowy figure cocked his head to the side, inquisitively, but he did not speak a word. Only when he had reached the corridor did he pause, and turn back into the room for a moment. "As long as you're sure, my lord," he said. He waited a breath, and then he was gone.

It was a long night.


End file.
